Fear of Falling
by Elphaba713
Summary: Sometimes fear can be overcome... and it's not always falling. TIVA, my first!
1. Prologue

-1I should not be posting this. I really shouldn't. I don't have the time to add another story to my list of 'need to update's. But if I don't get some incentive, this will never go anywhere, and it's my first Tiva story - not to mention my first story with Ziva as a main. So, all I can ask is that everyone be patient with me, 'cause now I've got four major stories going, and honestly, this one's low on my list 'cause I don't have it planned as fully as the others. But please review to let me know you're reading, and give me encouragement/ideas to keep me writing so I can get out more chapters, faster. Thanks!

**Prologue**

She should have known better. She really should have. First, coming into the basement alone was not her smartest move. Yes, she and Tony had cleared the house, but then he'd gone to look around outside, while she'd stayed to check the inside. She should have called him when she found the trapdoor under the rug. She really should have called him when she found the door unlocked and easily opened. And she definitely should have called him when she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw what the old basement held. But she hadn't. And she should have known better.

But, in her defense, she'd handled tougher situations. She'd disarmed two bombs in the space of a week, only a few months ago. And the timer on this one _did _say she had over five minutes to work. Plenty of time. But still, she should have known better.

In retrospect, the timer should have tipped her off. Five minutes was WAY too long for one to overshoot when setting a timer, even if they had expected it to take a bit longer for someone to locate the trapdoor. It was too easy, too convenient; even the placement of the bomb made it almost ridiculously easy to reach, right over a file cabinet which was next to a desk, two easy steps. She should have thought to look around. She should have known better.

If she took the time to think about it, she felt even more foolish. A fake timer linked to a trip wire was an old trick. Maybe she'd just gotten cocky, not to think of that, not to take a closer look around before stepping towards the ticking object, not to be more careful. And now she was paying for that carelessness. As her world exploded with sound and heat and light, one thought kept running through Ziva's mind: she really should have known better.


	2. Chapter 1

-1Wow. This is a longish chapter for me. And I could have done longer, but I wanted to cut it off where I did so I can switch POV's the next chapter. Anyways. And I got this one out fast, too, but that probably won't be the norm; I just wanted to get at least this chapter out so people can know a bit more than the prologue. And, just FYI, the title will eventually make sense/relate to the story, though it doesn't seem like it right now. Okay, done babbling, on with the story.

**Chapter One**

Ziva slowly fought her way back to consciousness. The first thing she was aware of was the ringing in her ears, and a distant crackling sound under that. The next thing to come to her was the heat, uncomfortably dry and stifling. Then she felt the heavy weight on her back, something pinning her down, and tried to lift herself up to move it off of her, which brought on the last sensation to hit: pain, intense shooting pain surging through her entire body. A scream surfaced inside her, but by the time it reached her lips it had shrunk to a moan, and the sound of her own voice dragged her the last few steps to consciousness.

Memory came with consciousness, and she slowly began to put the pieces together. She'd been in the basement of a house they were searching. A bomb had exploded because she had tripped a wire. Tony had been outside - so he'd be safe. She, obviously, was not dead. So that was a good thing. But she thought she might be trapped. The weight on her back was extremely heavy; she didn't think she could move it and didn't want to try again, it had hurt so much the first time. But why was it so hot? And what was that odd sound? And the air smelled strange, too… like…

_Like smoke. _That thought quickly captivated her mind, and she worked to fource her eyes open. As soon as she managed it, she kind of wished she hadn't. As she had guessed - and feared - flames flickered around her, concentrated in one spot - where the bomb had been - but steadily spreading, helped along by the room's mostly wooden furniture. And also as she had guessed, she was effectively trapped by a fallen beam, also wooden, across her back and ribcage. _Wonderful._ The smoke burned her eyes and she squinted against it, trying to suppress the panic slowly rising within her. She did not like fire.

"Ziva!" A distant voice caught her attention. _Tony!_ "Ziva, where are you? Ziva!"

"Tony…" her voice came out small, breathless, slightly choked in the thick smoke. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Tony." A bit better, but still not loud enough. She took a deep - and painful - breath and made yet another attempt. "Tony!"

"Ziva?" His voice was a bit closer, maybe in the room above her. "Where are you?"

"In the basement!" she called, coughing as smoke invaded her lungs.

"Okay, where's the basement?"

"Trapdoor… in the living room… under the rug!" she hoped he heard that, as interrupted by coughs as it was; her voice was getting quieter as shouting became more painful. But she soon found he had heard it, as she heard footsteps overhead, then the sound of the trapdoor being pulled open, then Tony's startled exclamation as smoke and heat exited the open door, and quick footsteps as he hurried down the stairs.

"What, did a chimney back up or…" he started, then noticed the flames. "Holy crap, the room's on fire!"

"Yes, I've noticed," Ziva muttered, drawing his attention to her.

His next word was a curse as he leapt off the stairs and hurried to her side. "What the hell did you do?"

"Something stupid," she admitted, maneuvering to get her arms beneath her and trying to raise herself and the beam enough to squirm out from under it. That was a bad idea; she fell back, unable to suppress a cry of pain.

"Don't move!" Tony ordered, sounding frightened, his tone only adding to her own growing panic. The flames were spreading, smoke filling the room; she could hardly breathe, the weight of the beam feeling like it was crushing her lungs, already invaded by thick smoke. She could feel the heat from the fire, inching ever nearer; her brain could just imagine the feeling of the flames on her skin.

"Well, what do you want me to do, then?!" There was a panicky note in her voice, and she felt ashamed of herself, fighting to suppress the overwhelming fear. Tony knelt by her, one hand resting on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"Just stay still. I'm gonna get you out of here." He took a moment to examine the situation. "Okay. Try to relax." She gave him a slight glare - easier said than done - but he ignored it, stepping around beside her and leaning over her, slipping his arms under hers and attempting to slide her out from under the beam.

Her body instantly tensed, intense pain tearing a cry from her throat and making tears prick her eyes, and she finally managed to gasp out, "Tony, stop…" in a small, quivering squeak. He did so immediately, releasing her and letting her lay panting on the ground for a moment, coughing slightly from a mix of the smoke and a strong need to clear her lungs.

"Sorry, sorry! That didn't work," he said, earning himself another glare, this one less steady than before.

"Y-you think not?"

"Okay." He looked around, his eyes fixing for a moment on the nearing flames. "Okay. It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here."

"Tony…" Ziva's tone held little fear now, but a note of sadness that made him look at her in concern. "You need to get out of the house."

"What?" His expression was a mix of shock and confusion.

"This is an old house, most everything is wood, and this fire's gonna spread fast..." Her voice trailed off weakly, she coughed a few times and started again. "And I can't move. You need to leave."

He shook his head. "I am _not _leaving you here, Ziva." The determination in his tone left little room for argument as his eyes flicked from the flames to her face to the beam pinning her down, an idea forming. "We're going to make this work." He stood and moved behind her, out of her line of sight.

"Where are you going?"

"Just hold on." He was quiet for a second, then added, "This… might hurt a bit."

The beam on her back shifted and she gave a little yelp, and then the weight was gone, but the pain that replaced it seemed worse than the weight. "Ziva, move!" Tony grunted, and she obeyed as best she could, sliding herself away from the flames, away from the beam, trying to move as fast as her arms could pull her - her legs weren't much use; it hurt too much to really use them effectively. A thump sounded behind her as Tony released the beam he'd lifted, followed by his order for her to "Stop moving." She gratefully let herself drop back to the ground, and a few seconds later Tony was kneeling beside her, rubbing his hands and trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath in the smoky air.

But the ever-louder crackling of the flames denied them a long break, reminding them that the goal was still getting out of the burning basement and, ultimately, the burning house. Tony was the first to move, bending over Ziva and saying, "Sorry," quietly before carefully slipping his arms beneath her and lifting her from the concrete floor. She tensed but managed to restrain the outcry this time, just letting her breath out in a slight hiss. Tony gave her a second to recover before hurrying for the stairs, the heat from the flames following behind them.


	3. Chapter 2

-1Okay, chapter two. Plot bunny has struck and will NOT leave me alone. Which is to the luck of my readers, I suppose. Consider this story a Christmas present! I'll try to keep it up, but I've gotta get back to my other three, too… and I start college in a couple weeks. But, writing is my reality break, so I won't be giving it up, so there we go. Anyways, please review… I don't write Tony too often, and this is my first time with Ziva, so let me know if I'm keeping them in character and everything. Oh, and if anyone knows Tony's new girlfriend's name, it completely left my mind, so please fill me in. Thanks!

**Chapter Two**

The smoke had all but filled the house, filtering through the trapdoor Tony had left open - and a good thing he had, too, he thought, or else they both would have suffocated in the small basement. As it was, Ziva was already coughing weakly in his arms, and he himself was doing his level best to stifle a coughing fit of his own - a task in which he failed when, upon kicking open the house's front door, a rush of clean air met him and ordered him to expel the smoky refuse from his lungs. Despite this, he didn't stop running until he was sure he was a safe distance from the burning house.

He recovered his breath sooner than Ziva did, which, though logical - she'd been in the smoke longer than he had - still frightened him. He carefully laid her on the leafy ground, propping her against a large rock, and waited for her coughs to subside, glancing over his shoulder at the house. It was a good thing they'd gotten out of there when they did - the fire had spread to the first floor, spewing smoke up to the sky.

He turned back to Ziva as she finally caught her breath and dropped limply back against the rock. "You okay?" he asked, but she couldn't manage words yet, merely nodding faintly. He looked at her worriedly; she was a few shades paler than normal, and her breathing still didn't seem very steady. "You sure?"

He waited until she caught her breath enough to answer, "Yes… I'm alright now."

"Okay." He looked out into the forest surrounding them; it had been quite a hike to get to the old house, and now he was wishing they had gone through with their attempt to drive there, rather than deciding to walk. But, first things first. Ziva was hurt, whether she claimed to be okay or not. So he needed to call for help. He stood and dug in his pocket for his cell phone. It wasn't there. He checked his other pocket - still no luck. Where was it? He'd had it that morning, 'cause he'd been calling the hospital again, and then Gibbs had come in so he'd put it on his desk, and Gibbs had told him where he and Ziva were going, so…

"Damn!" he hissed angrily. He'd left the stupid phone on his desk! "Idiot, DiNozzo!" he muttered, smacking himself in the back of the head. The one time he needed it, of course, he'd forget it.

"'Damn' what?" Ziva questioned, and he looked down at her.

"Do you have your cell on you?"

"Yes, in my pocket." He started to ask for it, but she cut him off. "And it is almost certainly broken."

He sighed heavily. "Then, 'damn' that." He looked back at the forest. "Guess we're walking to the car." He'd much rather call an ambulance, but…

"Um…" Ziva sounded a bit uncertain, and there was an undertone to her voice that he didn't recognize. "You… You walk. I'm, um… I'm going to wait here."

He gave her a slight glare. Leave her alone and hurt in the middle of nowhere? Not a chance. "I'm not leaving you sitting here, Ziva."

"I'll only slow you down. We're far enough from the house, I'll be alright. Go." There it was again, under the determination and her attempts at being commanding, something unrecognizable.

"Stop it, Ziva. I'm not going to leave you here." Maybe she was in pain, didn't want to walk. "Come on, I'll help you."

"No. Go, Tony, find a phone, call someone, something." She refused to meet his gaze, staring at the ground beside her. "Come back if you want, just go now." She was starting to sound a bit frantic, a bit scared.

"Ziva, we don't have time for this. I will not leave you here alone! I'll help you walk, but we've got to go. Now, get up!"

"I _can't_!" she shouted suddenly, snapping her head up to look him in the eyes. Her voice held such a tone of raw honesty and pain that he didn't even try to respond. Her words were shaky, her tone helpless and a bit frantic - angry, but not at him. "I can't get up, Tony! No matter how much I want to. I'm stuck here!" She must have noticed the confusion in his gaze, because she sighed and hung her head, her next words coming softer, gentler. "I can hardly move my legs, Tony. They're not going to hold me if I try to stand. I'm not going anywhere."

He stared at her wordlessly for a long moment before dropping to his knees beside her, seemingly frozen but his mind working a mile a minute. The beam - that thing had been damned heavy, just for him to lift a few inches - and it had fallen from the ceiling, a good eight or nine feet above her at the time, landed on her back - _spinal injury. _He wasn't a medical expert by any means, but police work taught him a bit, and he knew he'd already broken the most important rule: Don't move the victim. She'd been trying to move before he even got there, and he'd definitely moved her. Yes, it had been a necessity, but what if he'd caused more damage? How bad was it?

"Okay…" he finally managed. "Okay. Can… can you feel your legs, at all?"

She nodded slightly. "Yes. They hurt."

He nearly had to laugh at her bluntness. "Okay. Good. I mean, good you can still feel them." He gave a small sigh of relief. She wasn't paralyzed - yet. But he couldn't move her anymore. If she had a spinal injury, and more movement irritated it, she could lose the use of her legs. But he couldn't leave her there alone, either, could he? No. He knew Ziva. She wouldn't stay still. And he didn't want to leave her there alone and in pain. So, what could he do?

He looked over at the burning house yet again. The flames were bright and noticeable now, and the smoke was drifting high up into the air, like a giant smoke signal. Exactly! "Okay. We're going to stay here, then." Before Ziva could protest him staying, he cut her off. "I'm not leaving you here. Someone will see the smoke and come to investigate; we're not really _that_ far from civilization."

Ziva sighed and nodded slightly; he assumed she'd figured out that there was nothing he could do to get him to leave her there. He just hoped his decision was the right one. Someone had to notice this giant column of smoke, right? Right. And she wasn't really hurt that bad, just as long as she stayed still, right? Right. So, he wondered, watching Ziva out of the corner of his eye, why did part of him feel like he'd just signed her death warrant?


	4. Chapter 3

-1Okay, this one's short, I know, but I had to end it there so I could stick with my plan for the next chapter. I'll try to avoid short ones like this cropping up often; I'm working on lengthening my chapters. Anyways. Try to have the next chapters on this and at least one other of my stories out by Friday… I have Thursday off work, finally! So, review, please, still going for in character… 'cause it just bothers me when my characters aren't in character. And, still looking for Tony's new girlfriend's name… the doctor lady? Someone please help me out here.

**Chapter Three**

"Ziva?" Tony asked gently, and when she didn't respond, tried a bit louder. "Ziva!"

She jumped slightly, jerking her head up to look at him. "Huh?"

He felt an odd mix of relief and concern shoot through him - her eyes were open, but looked a bit glazed. "You were falling asleep. You need to stay awake."

"I wasn't falling asleep," she protested, though a slightly dazed sound in her voice made the denial a bit unconvincing.

"Well, you need to stay awake," he repeated.

"You said that already."

"Just reiterating." He glanced over at her. "Legs still hurt?"

"Not as much." That worried him a bit. If she was losing the feeling in her legs… on a bit of a whim, he reached over and laid his hand on her thigh. She flinched at the unexpected touch and shot him a look. "I'd say that's a… yellow light, at least."

He grinned slightly, not removing his hand. "But you can feel it, right?"

She gave him a sort of half-glare. "And if you don't move, you'll be feeling your wrist break." His grin widened as he drew his hand back, relieved. If she was still threatening him, she must be doing okay. There was silence for a moment before she asked uncertainly, "Are you alright?"

He glanced at her, a bit surprised. "_I'm_ fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

She fidgeted slightly, though obediently kept still and straight against the rock. "Well, the smoke… and you were sick… the Y pestis?" Tony looked at her in confusion, and she shrugged. "And that can weaken your lungs, and then you were in the smoke for a while… I just wondered if you were okay."

He wasn't sure if he was more touched or confused by her concern. What had brought that to her mind? He knew she'd been told about it, but she hadn't even been there for it. "I'm fine, Ziva. That was a good while ago. I'm completely over it."

"You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure I'm alright," he assured her.

She didn't look like she fully believed him, but she nodded. "Okay. Good." She reclined back against the rock, sighing softly.

"So…" he started after a moment of silence. "What exactly happened? I mean, I just heard a 'bang' and came in to see if you were okay."

Ziva's sigh was deeper this time, and when she spoke, it was obvious she was rather annoyed with herself. "I found the trapdoor to the basement and decided to look around. There was a bomb there linked to a trip wire. I only saw the timer. I was going to try and disarm it."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Ziva! You're not supposed to do something like that alone! We hadn't cleared the basement; you should have come and gotten me right away."

"I know that, Tony," she muttered.

"They why didn't you?" He demanded.

"Because the timer said five minutes and I thought I could do it myself without wasting time finding you!" she snapped, glaring slightly.

"Well, obviously not!" he said with a slight, humorless laugh. "Ziva, you could have been killed!"

"I know it was stupid, alright? I made a mistake. It was my fault, now I'm dealing with it. So please drop it." He glared at her for a second; she stared at the ground. He was annoyed; he'd admit it. She knew procedure, she hadn't followed it and now she could end up losing her ability to walk because she didn't take those few extra minutes to come get him. But, a glance at her dejected expression quickly dissolved all anger he felt; she was already beating herself up enough over it, she didn't need him to help her out there. What was done was done, now they had to deal with the consequences. It was just a lot easier to get mad at her than it was to face how worried he was about her.

She sighed again and dropped her head back against the rock; the angle could not have been terribly comfortable, but it was the best she could manage without a moderate shift in position, which he had strictly commanded her to avoid. He watched her, trying to think of something to say, something to make her feel a bit better. He opened his mouth, about to rattle off a joke, but something stopped him. Ziva had closed her eyes for a moment, and he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; something wasn't right. "Ziva?" She opened her eyes and looked over at him, but didn't say anything. "Ziva, how's your breathing?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, looking confused, but also a bit startled. "It's… fine," she assured him hesitantly.

He leaned forward a bit to look at her from the front, watching the rise and fall of her chest carefully and shaking his head. "No…" he protested softly, feeling uncertainty turn to fear at warp speed. There was little rhythm, no steadiness to each too-shallow breath. "No, Ziva, it's really not."


	5. Chapter 4

-1Okay, chapter four! Wow, I'm going a LOT faster on this one than I thought I would. Just a warning, I'm apt to hit a writer's block any time now; I don't usually go this long without one surfacing to torment me. Lol. For now, though, I'm enjoying being dramatic and actually writing an 'on the field' type thing… don't get to do that with Abby too often. Hope you all are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and thanks for helping me out with Tony's girl's name… that'll come in eventually, that's why I needed it! Please keep the reviews coming. Thanks!

**Chapter Four**

"I'm fine, Tony," Ziva told him again. He shook his head, gaze moving from her chest up to her face, searching her eyes. "I mean it, I'm alright." But she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Hold still, then. I'm gonna make sure." He leaned over her slightly, taking her wrist to check her pulse; she pulled her hand away.

"I'm fine, Tony!"

He shot her a slight look. "If you really thought you were fine, you wouldn't have any problem with me checking you over," he said softly, concern obvious in his tone. She looked startled, a slightly 'deer-caught-in-the-headlights' type expression, then turned her gaze back to the ground beside her, the spot she seemed to find so interesting. This time when he took hold of her wrist, she didn't pull away.

Her pulse was way too fast, much too weak, and her breathing still hadn't evened out, though he could tell she was trying her best to steady and deepen her breaths. Feeling his heart start to pound, he released her wrist and took a second to look into her slightly glazed eyes. "Ziva. Be honest with me. Tell me what's wrong."

She sighed and muttered, "Breathing hurts. I think I got bruised up pretty badly by that beam." Glancing up at him, she once again insisted, "I'll be okay."

But Tony wasn't so sure. He tried to picture how she'd been laying when he'd found her, where the beam had been on her, how it had had her pinned. Something that heavy, falling from that height - it would do more than bruise. A lot more. He reached to pull up her shirt a bit, intending to examine her injuries; she flinched away as best she could while still obeying his 'no major movements' order.

"What are you doing?"

"Hold still. I'm gonna see how badly bruised you did end up."

"Oh, yes, I'm just going to sit here and let you take my shirt off," she replied sarcastically. He gave her a slightly shaky rendition of his usual grin.

"Well, as you aren't allowed to move and can't exactly run away…" At her glare, he shrugged slightly and reached for her shirt again. "Not off. Just up enough for me to check you over, okay? Purely professional."

"Uh-huh," she mumbled disbelievingly, but leaned back against her rock with a sigh. "Go on. Get it over with." He almost laughed when he heard her mutter something about red lights under her breath. He was pretty sure the only reason she hadn't threatened to rip his arms off was that she knew that wouldn't stop him, and that she wasn't in any position to carry through with such a threat.

Any urge to laugh was quickly squelched when his hand brushed against her side as he moved to lift her shirt; she gasped and flinched away, and it was all he could do not to jerk away from her. He'd barely touched her, but she'd reacted like he'd struck her. As soon as he'd raised her shirt up, it was his turn to gasp - her 'badly bruised' explanation seemed like the world's largest understatement. Her skin was a dark mess of blues and reds and purples, covering almost the entire area of her ribcage; he could only see her front without moving her, but he figured it safe to assume the damage was at least as bad on her back where the beam had landed.

"God, Ziva…" he breathed out, his voice a mix of disbelief and fear.

"Is it bad?" The traces of denial had left her tone, leaving it surprisingly steady, but a bit emotionless - she already knew the answer.

Tony hesitated. "Um… c-could be worse." It wasn't a lie - she wasn't dead, right? Dead would be worse - but it felt pretty damn close. "I'm… gonna check and see if anything's broken, okay?" She nodded wordlessly, and, taking a deep breath, Tony reached out to lightly touch her bruised skin, examining her ribs.

Her reaction was instant and involuntary: her entire body jerked violently, and a cry tore from her throat; she would have fallen over at the strong movement that literally lifted her off the rock had Tony not acted quickly, grasping her shoulder to steady her, then slipping his arm behind her shoulders as a support. He continued his examination, probing her ribcage as gently as possible, fourcing his ears to tune out her cries as they faded to moans and then down to whimpers, holding her still until she ceased trying to pull away and instead lay trembling beneath his touch.

It was only a few minutes before he carefully pulled her shirt back down and lay her back against the rock, but to him it felt like untold hours. A glance at her face showed the toll his short examination had taken on her: her eyes were shut tightly; tears of pain stained her cheeks; beads of sweat stood out on her forehead; her olive skin had lost nearly all its colour; she was breathing in quick, ragged gasps. Tony was used to thinking of her as strong enough to stand up to anything, and it honestly scared him to see her in such a state. He brushed his hand across her forehead, softly repeating "Sorry!" over and over again, taking hold of her hand and letting her cling to him until the pain began to fade.

"T-that… was n-not pleasant," she finally managed, cracking her eyes open to gaze blearily up at him.

"Sorry," he said again, earning himself a glance.

"You've said that... a few times. Don't be." She shifted slightly, wincing. "It already h-hurt, anyways."

"Ziva, why didn't you tell me?"

She attempted a smile, but didn't quite manage it. "It d-didn't hurt _that_ bad before. Didn't th-think it was worth worrying you."

_Well, it was,_ he thought. And he was worried. He was more than worried. What he'd found had not been good. He hadn't been terribly thorough, truthfully stopping before he'd really checked much so as to avoid causing her more pain, but he could already tell her ribcage was in bad shape. Most if not all the ribs he'd felt had definitely been broken; he'd only checked a few, but that was enough to bring the thought to mind - it could have crushed her ribcage. That would be… _bad_ just did not seem like a descriptive enough word. Even if that wasn't the case, it was safe to assume her lungs had suffered some damage, considering the way she was breathing. And if it _was_ the case, who knew how bad this could be? She could have punctured a lung, internal bleeding was a distinct possibility… and here they were in the middle of nowhere with no phone and no way to contact anyone. _Bad_ was definitely an understatement.

He gave her hand a light squeeze, which she returned with just a little less strength. She was lying limp against the rock, her eyes half-open as she watched him think. And he certainly was thinking. He couldn't move her. It could complicate her injuries even more - now there was more than just her legs to worry about. If she hadn't punctured a lung yet, movement could jar her broken ribs and cause her to. That jolt at his touch could have done some damage already; she couldn't move - or be moved - any more. But he couldn't leave her alone. Maybe before he could have, perhaps even should have, before he'd known… but now, there was no way he could leave her. She needed an ambulance, medical help, yeah, but she also needed to stay awake, and calm, and keep breathing, and she was already having difficulty with at least two of those, no matter what she claimed.

He looked from her to the forest to the burning house. The smoke was still rising in a thick black column. Any evidence they could have found in there was long gone, but there were other things to worry about. Certainly that smoke column would be noticeable from quite a distance. The nearest house… he tried to remember when they'd last passed one. Maybe three, five miles away? Someone would have to notice something, right? Or Gibbs would figure out they hadn't come back yet and try to call them. If Ziva didn't answer her phone, he'd figure out something was wrong and come looking for them, right?

"So, now what?" Ziva's voice startled him out of his pondering, soft and a bit shaky. He looked down at her, fourced a reassuring smile.

"Now, you're gonna keep sitting still, and stay awake. Someone's gonna see that smoke soon and call the fire department, and then we'll be out of here." She nodded slightly, but looked a bit unsure - whether of her own abilities or the likelihood of their rescue he didn't know. He sighed slightly and lightly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Shouldn't take too long," he promised. God, he hoped he was right.


	6. Chapter 5

-1And somehow I still avoid the writer's block! It's a miracle. I'm on a role. Yet another question for my reviewers… is Tony's girlfriend any particular type of doctor, or have they never told us that? I don't think I've ever heard them say what type of doctor she is, but I might have just missed it, as I don't hugely care about her. Lol. If anyone knows, though, fill me in, 'cause I don't want to go against something they've told us in the series. And even if you don't know, please review! I like reviews. Thanks!

**Chapter Five**

Clouds were interesting. Ziva had never really paid attention to them before, and now she was kind of wondering why not. They were pretty, for one thing, all white and fluffy, like wisps of cotton. And it looked very interesting, really, the way the smoke was mixing with them, white and black swirling together in intricate patterns. She didn't try to find shapes; she just watched the patterns already there, giving her mind a break from its racing thoughts.

Her legs hardly hurt anymore, merely a dull ache, replaced by the pain in her chest, worse with each breath. She knew that should worry her, but for some reason it didn't. It should also worry her, really, when she glanced at the flickering flames rising from the house… it should be rather warm, if not uncomfortably hot, but she felt cold. But she was hot, too, at the same time. She didn't know which she'd prefer - cold or hot - so maybe it was good that she felt both. She glanced over at Tony, wondering vaguely if he was at all cold, too. He'd taken his jacket off and folded it behind her head as a sort of pillow, which was admittedly more comfortable than just the rock, but she hoped he wasn't cold now without it. Maybe the fire would keep him warm.

Tony was talking. She tried to focus on his words, but she could only make out a few. He'd been talking almost non-stop the past half-hour or so, telling her about episodes of his favourite TV show. She didn't really understand it, and it was so hard to get her mind to focus in on what he was saying enough to figure it out. He wasn't really talking _to_ her, anyways, as much as he was talking _at_ her, so he shouldn't be too angry that she wasn't really managing to pay attention.

She was tired. Tony had told her not to sleep. Why not? She couldn't remember, but she thought it was important somehow. Breathing was hard. She couldn't think straight. Even trying was exhausting, it all took too much effort. Maybe things would clear up a bit if she got some rest. Yes, that was it, she just needed to rest. Just for a minute…

There were fingers tapping firmly on her cheek and a voice speaking loudly into her ear, tugging her back to awareness, back to the pain. "Ziva! Ziva, open your eyes!" She moaned in protest, but the voice was insistent. "Come on, Ziva, you've gotta wake up!" The hand moved to her forehead, fingers gently lifted one eyelid, she could make out a fuzzy figure hovering over her. She moaned again and tried to twist her head away, but it took too much energy to move.

"Go away… let me sleep…" she mumbled pleadingly. She was so tired.

"No, Ziva, you can't sleep. You have to stay awake. Come on, stay with me." The hand was stroking her hair now, and she felt fingers wrap lightly around hers, warm against her skin. She pried her eyes open, blinked a few times, and fourced her eyes to focus on the blurry form above her.

"Tony…"

He smiled slightly and gave her hand a light squeeze. "I'm here. It's okay."

She drew in a shallow, uneven breath, trying to calm herself down as realization flooded her. She knew where she was, why everything hurt, and why it was so important that she stay awake. And, with a jolt, she realized how close she'd come to giving up, and it scared her. She regained her feeble grasp on consciousness with new resolve.

She saw the look in Tony's eyes and realized she'd scared him, too. His concern was touching, and she shot him a weak smile, which he returned. "Don't do that again."

"Sorry," she said, hating how weak and breathless her voice sounded. "Just… g-got really tired." She was still really tired, but her brain was less foggy then before, thankfully. She just had to stay focused on something, anything, to keep herself from drifting off again. "W-what were you t-talking about?"

He chuckled. "Not too interesting, hm?"

"H-hard to concentrate," she admitted wearily. His had still rested on top of her head, the touch oddly comforting. "My m-mind's kind of w-wandering."

Tony nodded, looking worried. "It's okay. I was running out of things to tell you about, anyways."

She laughed slightly. "Y-you? R-run out of th-things to s-say? I m-must be dr-dreaming…" She trailed off, coughing a bit. Talking was getting more difficult, taking more effort.

His smile seemed a bit unsteady, and he brought his finger to her lips. "Shh. I'm sure I'll think of something else to ramble about. So let me do the talking."

She nodded faintly, but couldn't resist one last question. "H-how long have w-we been w-waiting?"

"Only about half an hour. I'm sure someone's seen the smoke by now. Bet the fire department's already on their way." But he didn't sound as certain as he had before. "They'll probably be here any minute now."

She nodded, trying to look like she believed him. It was an odd feeling, really, to have that thought in the her mind - her life was on a timer, which from the feel of it was rapidly ticking down. As Tony picked a topic and started talking again, she fourced herself to concentrate on what he was saying - it was a bit easier, now, as he was talking about movies and making sure to include her, asking yes-or-no questions that she could answer with little more than a nod or shake of her head - but that thought seemed to keep hovering in the back of her mind, and she couldn't get rid of it. And, though she hated to admit it, she was scared - very scared.


	7. Chapter 6

-1Chapter six! Hope this one's good. It's pretty long for me. I'm proud of myself. And still no paralyzing writer's block! I might actually finish this one in a reasonable amount of time. Though, I do need to get back to work on my other stories, too, but I'll do my best to keep up the quick updates on this one. Shout out to Liz, the best muse ever and my wonderful pre-reader. Reviews still loved! Thanks!

**Chapter Six**

Tony was beginning to panic. Ziva was just barely clinging to consciousness. She was feverish, disoriented, and too weak to even lift her head from the jacket he'd supplied as a makeshift pillow. Every breath seemed shallower than the last; he could hear each one rattling in her chest. He was looking at his watch every five minutes, feeling like it must have been at least thirty since his last glance; they'd been waiting for almost an hour now, and still no one had shown up. He'd kept up a flow of talk the whole time, trying to keep her focused, trying to keep her awake, but he was running out of topics and she was running out of time.

He stroked her forehead gently, trying not to be frightened by the unnatural heat of her skin. She moaned softly and leaned lightly into his touch, and in all honesty that scared him more than everything else had. "Hold on, Ziva," he said gently, taking her hand again. If someone didn't show up soon… He sighed heavily, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with his free hand; the air was stiflingly hot from the fire.

Ziva was putting up a good fight, he'd give her that. She'd given him a few scares, but he'd always managed to pull her back. But her strength was failing, and he knew it. She wouldn't last much longer out here, and hope of rescue drained away with each tick of his watch. It was coming down to that he'd have to make a choice: continue to sit here and wait while she slowly slipped away, praying someone would show up; or pick her up, hike back to the car, and take her to the hospital himself, facing the risk of hurting her more with the movement. It wasn't a pleasant choice, and he knew it could be a dangerous one either way he took it.

He was pulled from his debate when Ziva started coughing, weakly at first but then with more fource. He slipped a hand behind her head and lifted her slightly, trying to help her get her breath back, but it didn't seem to do much good. All he could think of to do was scoot closer to her, wrapping his arm around her and holding her steady until the coughing finally subsided and she dropped limply back against the rock, blood staining her lips and trickling in a thin stream from the corner of her mouth, her eyes half-closed and glazed over with pain.

"Debate over," he muttered. It wasn't much of a choice anymore. Lose her legs or lose her life? No contest. He released her hand and moved to climb to his feet, but she frantically caught hold of his fingers again, clutching at his hand with all her feeble strength.

"D-don't l-l-leave…" she begged, her voice so small and frightened that it chilled him despite the oppressive heat. He dropped back to his knees and stroked her hair gently.

"I wouldn't leave you alone before. Why would I do it now? You're coming with me." He didn't know if she'd make the connection as to where they were going; it didn't matter right then. "Hang in there. It's gonna be okay." He released her hand again, and this time she let him. He got his feet under him, draped his jacket over his arm - he'd need it once he got her to the car - then scooped her into his arms as carefully as possible.

The movement still drew a tiny cry of pain from her lips, and she moaned out a weak, "Don't…" but by then he already had her settled against him. He shifted his grip slightly so that her head rested lightly on his shoulder and he could feel her weak breaths as little puffs of air on his neck.

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry. Just stay with me. I'm gonna get you help." Moving as quickly as he dared, doing his best to keep from jolting her, he headed down the worn path they'd followed up there, heading for the car.

It was about a mile walk back to the car. Whenever Ziva was too still for too long he'd call her name, and every time it was an immense relief when she'd respond with a twitch or a moan. It was an even larger relief when he finally reached the car. "Okay, now, we're doing good. Not much longer." He wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or Ziva.

It took him a minute to get the back door open, and he was rather proud of himself when he did - that was _skill_, to open a car door using nothing but his foot while keeping his upper body steady. He'd have to brag about that later. But not now. Now there were much more important things to worry about.

He lay Ziva gently on the back seat, grabbing the first-aid kit he kept under the seat and wrapping his jacket around it. It would be almost useless medically at this point, but it still had uses. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain that he had to keep her propped up, to keep her airway clear or something like that - so she'd keep breathing. He carefully lifted her head and slid the makeshift support beneath it, pausing a moment to brush a few strands of dark hair out of her face. "Hang on. You're gonna be okay."

He shut the back door and yanked the driver's side door open, practically leaping into the car, snapping his seatbelt on, and starting the engine. The hospital, if he remembered his roads correctly, was half an hour away. That was much too long. He'd have to cut that down a bit. He pulled out of the dirt trail, paused to adjust the rear-view mirror so he could see Ziva in it, then sped off down the road.

It was easy, on the small two-lane road, to go fast. There was nothing to get in the way. But as he got closer to the city, he was fourced to slow a bit, maneuver through the increasing traffic. He'd never hated traffic more than he did then.

He'd made it about half-way to the hospital when he chanced a glance in the mirror. He swore his heart stopped for a second: Ziva was much too still. Her head was tilted slightly to the side; he could see the blood on her lips and a few small drops on his jacket. She wasn't moving at all, and just from the mirror, he couldn't tell if she was breathing.

"Ziva? Ziva! Ziva, wake up!" He was yelling loudly, she didn't stir. "Damn it, Ziva, don't give up now! We're almost there!"

Hang the traffic; he stepped down hard on the gas. Horns honked loudly as he weaved dangerously through the cars; he ignored them. He cut off more people than he could count, and if it weren't for the whole 'government employee immunity' thing while on-duty he would have been a bit concerned about how many laws he was sure he had broken, but none of that mattered right now. "Don't be dead, don't be dead…" He practically shouted in relief when he saw the sign for the hospital, and he slowed just enough to safely make the turn in to the ambulance entrance. Chalk up another broken law, there; at least there were no ambulances in the way.

He braked surprisingly smoothly, considering; in the back of his mind he still had the determination not to jolt her badly. He almost forgot to unbuckle his seatbelt as he flung the door open and jumped from the car; he jerked the back door open and leaned over her, pressing two fingers to her neck. He could have cried when he felt the weak, fluttering beats beneath his fingers; he gathered her into his arms and darted for the door.

Hospital staff were already coming to meet him, probably to see why he'd come in the ambulance entrance and parked in a restricted zone; Tony never gave them a chance to ask. "I need doctors; she's hurt bad!" It wasn't the best explanation, but it was enough to send employees scurrying.

Two doctors came to take her from him; he babbled out everything he knew in a half-way coherent stream. The second the words 'spinal injury' left his lips, the approach was changed; hands suddenly seemed to become gentler, a nurse braced Ziva's head and neck as they laid her on a stretcher. Voices shouted out information and commands; he heard someone call out, "Got a slight pulse," followed by another voice ordering, "We need to get her on oxygen, stat!" Tony felt himself being gently pushed out of the way; a nurse was trying to lead him to the waiting room, asking for more detailed information, but he was frozen in place, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Ziva until her stretcher was pulled out of his sight, through the ER doors.


	8. Chapter 7

-1Here's chapter seven! Sorry it took a bit longer than usual. I did hit on a little writer's block, but it wasn't really big enough to cause any huge problems. Mainly my excuse is that I've been so darn busy the past few days! Family friends came down for New Years, and we only see them once a year, so that took up a lot of time. And then we've been doing inventory at the store I work at, so that had me working more hours than usual. And then I start college on Monday! Yeah. But, I'll do my best to keep this up! And as a side note, all I know about Jeanne is she's a med student of some sort, so I'm taking artistic license with her. If this conflicts with anything they have said or do say about her in the series, I apologize, but for the purposes of this story I'm writing her the best I can the way I need her. Reviews still loved! Thanks!

**Chapter Seven**

Tony sat alone in the hospital waiting room, head in his hands. The past hour and a half had been a blur. He'd been interrogated, poked, prodded, fourced to sit and breathe through an oxygen mask for a good fifteen minutes - no one seemed to care that he'd been out of the direct smoke for over an hour, now - and then dumped unceremoniously in the waiting room to - well, wait, obviously - and no one would tell him anything about Ziva.

He'd found a phone and called Gibbs about ten minutes ago. He hadn't been able to tell if his boss was angry or not; he'd been rather short, asking what happened and saying he'd be there as soon as he could. Tony hadn't told him too many details, anyways. Gibbs didn't need to hear from him that he hadn't been in the house when the bomb had gone off, that she'd been trying to disable it rather than having missed noticing it - what good would it do to get Ziva in trouble now? If she wanted to tell Gibbs, fine, but Tony wouldn't. If she ever got the chance to tell him, that is.

No, he shouldn't think like that. He certainly didn't want to think like that. So why was it so hard not to? He shouldn't have waited so long. If he'd just carried her to the car in the first place, she'd probably be alive and recovering right now, complaining that they wouldn't let her go home right away. But he'd had reasons not to. Still, he shouldn't have waited that long - he should have figured out after the first half hour that no one was coming. Stupid! How could he have been so stupid?

He was pulled from his moderate self-loathing by a familiar voice. "Tony!" He stood just in time to be half-tackled by Abby, who kept up a constant stream of babble as she hugged him tight. "Oh my God, are you okay? Gibbs told me you guys were in the hospital and he wouldn't tell me anything else about it and then when we drove over here he was driving _way_ over the speed limit and we almost crashed multiple times and I didn't know what was going on 'cause no one would tell me!"

Tony dislodged himself from Abby's grip as gently as possible. "I'm fine, Abby. I wasn't hurt. Why are you here? Where's Gibbs?"

She motioned back over her shoulder. "Yelling at a doctor. They won't tell him anything, either. And I'm here 'cause Gibbs came and told me to get in the car, we were going to the hospital." She looked him over. "You're sure you're okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. I never was hurt."

She nodded, seeming satisfied, and plopped down in an empty chair. "They told you how she's doing yet?"

Sighing heavily, Tony sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Nope. Nothing."

She nodded again. "Well, at least it's not just me and Gibbs." He gave her a sideways glance, and she shrugged. "Doctors never want to tell you anything. Ducky excepted, of course." His silence didn't seem to discourage her. "It's like some secret doctor code, that they'll keep you waiting forever and never tell you anything you want to know." She glanced over at him. "It doesn't mean things are particularly bad, you know." When he didn't respond, she continued, in full-on babble mode. "They don't even tell you if it's good. They don't discriminate. They just don't tell you _anything. _So just 'cause they haven't told us anything doesn't mean something's really wrong. They're just doing what all doctors seem to do, not telling anyone anything. It's not a bad sign or anything, it's just…"

"Abby, stop." He cut her off, a bit harshly. "You're babbling again."

He regretted his tone almost instantly when she visibly wilted, hanging her head slightly and saying a soft, "Sorry," fidgeting with her handcuff bracelet. She was just trying to make him feel better, and here he was snapping at her like this was her fault. He sighed heavily.

"No, Abbs, I'm sorry. I'm just…" He shook his head.

"Worried. I know. It's okay." She smiled slightly at him. "She'll be okay." Tony turned his gaze back to the ground. "C'mon, Tony. Have you ever known Ziva to give up on _anything_?" At his shrug and slight grin, she nodded. "See? I highly doubt she'll start now."

They sat in silence for a moment; Tony had nothing to say, Abby was weighing her words. "Tony," she finally said softly, making him look up at her. "It's not your fault."

He didn't get a chance to respond, distracted by another familiar voice. "Tony!" And he was caught in another hug, which somehow was more of a surprise than Abby's - though, admittedly not as tight.

"Jeanne." He shouldn't have been surprised, really - she did work here.

"God, when they said we had an NCIS agent in the ER, I don't think I've ever been so scared!" She released him and pulled back a bit. "All I could think of were all the things that might have happened to you."

Tony glanced over at Abby, who was eyeing them with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "I'm fine, Jeanne. Been all checked over and everything." He sighed slightly. "It was my partner who was hurt."

She nodded. "I know." She mirrored his glance at Abby, looking her over a bit uncertainly before turning back to him. "I'm actually one of the workers on her case."

It was all Tony could do to keep his mouth from dropping open. It took him a minute to summon words, and when he did, all he could manage was, "How's she doing?"

Jeanne shook her head. "I can't tell you much right now, other than that we're working on her. There was a lot of damage to her ribcage, and then with injuries to the spinal column… well, you never know how they're going to turn out. But we're going to do all we can for her." Tony stared at the floor, Jeanne put her hand lightly on his shoulder. "I can tell you her chances are at least 50/50. If you'd gotten her in here any later, there'd be no chance. You probably saved her life, bringing her here so fast."

_Fast?_ he scolded himself mentally. _If I'd been faster, then those chances could be 100! _But out loud he just said, "Yeah."

Apparently feeling a bit awkward under his silence and Abby's curious glances, Jeanne stepped back a bit. "Well, I'd better go see if I'm needed. Sorry I can't tell you more… As soon as I know more, you'll know, okay?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." Jeanne waved over her shoulder at him as she walked away, and he dropped yet again into the hard plastic chair.

"You two… know each other?" Abby asked incredulously as soon as Jeanne was out of earshot.

"I've known her for a few months; help her out with her studies and stuff." He didn't feel like giving any more details, and was rather grateful when she didn't ask for them. They lapsed into silence again, Abby waiting for Gibbs to come in, and Tony trying to sort out all that had happened that day - and it wasn't even over yet! The only thing he knew for sure is that life had just become a lot more complicated - and he wasn't even really sure how.


	9. Chapter 8

-1Okay, quickly written, quickly posted. I'm sitting in the library and I have twelve minutes to jog to my next class as soon as I post this. Sorry for the delay; a tiny case of writer's block added to college takes up a lot of time. I'll try to be faster on the next one. Reviews loved! Thanks!

**Chapter Eight**

The silence in the small waiting room felt so thick, Tony was sure he could have reached out and touched it. He'd heard people say that before in books and movies, but he'd never understood how it felt until now. It wasn't a nice feeling. He actually wished Abby would start babbling again.

Abby was sitting staring blankly at a magazine, obviously not reading it - as it was a Vogue fashion magazine, Tony doubted she'd even tried to read it. Gibbs was glaring around the room, mostly at the doors, as if his glare could make someone come in and tell them what was going on. Most of Tony's attention was currently dedicated to watching the second hand make its way around the clock on the wall. It had only been three and a half hours since he and Ziva had arrived at the house. It felt like three and a half years.

Tony still couldn't figure out if Gibbs was angry. He had spent the first half hour there yelling at every doctor he could find, and since then had been almost too quiet. He'd barely said a word to Tony after making sure he was alright. Tony had seen Abby exchange a few lines of sign language with him; he wouldn't be surprised if she'd been telling him not to yell at Tony as well. But he'd almost prefer yelling to this silence.

Part of him longed for Jeanne to walk in, but not for the reasons one would expect. With Gibbs and Abby both there it would complicate things if she tried to comfort him, and he didn't think anything she could do would be comforting, anyways. But she'd be the one most likely to tell him the truth, to give him honest information, and he just wanted to know how Ziva was. At this point, he almost felt that hearing she was dying would be better than sitting here not knowing anything. But every time he thought that, his heart would skip a beat, and he knew he'd rather have hope than hear he'd lost her.

Staring so intently at the clock prevented him from seeing the door, so the first indication that anything had changed was the loud-sounding rustle of Abby practically dropping the magazine as she jumped out of her chair, followed by the scrape of a second chair on the floor as Gibbs stood fast enough to move it. Tony snapped his head down to check the door. It wasn't Jeanne, but an older male doctor had who just come in. He felt his heart stop for a moment at the sight of the red stains on his gown and gloves, then start back up at full speed. He was on his feet as well before his brain even realized he was moving.

"Are you all here for Agent David?" The man asked as he removed his gloves. It seemed a rather dumb question, as they were the only three people in the waiting room, but Tony figured it was habit for the doctor to ask.

Gibbs nodded. "What's the news?" He sounded like he was trying his very best not to start yelling at this guy too. Tony couldn't stop his heart pounding; Abby stepped a bit closer to him, her eyes flicking between him, the doctor, and Gibbs.

The man stepped forward and held out his hand to Gibbs. "I'm Dr. Ron Johnson." Gibbs ignored the handshake as well as the doctor had ignored the question, and after a moment Dr. Johnson let his arm drop back by his side. This was apparently all it took to get him to skip over the formalities. "Agent David's injuries are rather severe, most notably the damage to her ribcage. Most of her ribs were broken, her left lung was punctured, and the bruising was extensive. We've managed to stabilize her and done what we could with her ribs, but that's an area that the body mostly has to heal on its own, in the long run. We patched up the lung, though, and it seems to be holding up well so far. We've moved her into a private room in ICU."

Gibbs nodded silently. Tony didn't know whether to be elated or worried; the words sounded optimistic, but the doctor's expression was not. His mental sentiment was echoed after a moment by Gibbs' prodding, "What else?"

"Well, it's still a bit touch-and-go. Again, the injuries were severe. I'd say her chances are very good, though, if she makes it through tonight."

Tony dropped back into the chair. The relief that washed over him wasn't as strong as it could have been, but still a wonderful reprieve to the worry. Abby caught his eye and smiled slightly, and he managed a tiny smile back. _Her chances are good. She'll probably make it._ He refused to think about that nagging 'if'. Abby was right. Ziva never gave up on anything. There was no 'if'.

But Gibbs was still not satisfied. "What aren't you telling us?" he asked pointedly, making Tony look back up.

Dr. Johnson sighed. "There… was some damage to her spinal column. Mostly bruising, it looked like, but we don't know the extent of it yet - we won't until she's well enough for us to do some examinations. It could be minor, not cause any problems at all."

"Or?" Gibbs prodded, drawing another sigh from the doctor.

"Or, it could be major. Spinal injuries are tricky things. Something that looks tiny can be a big problem, or something that looks serious can be miniscule."

"And what would it mean, if it's major?" Tony asked hesitantly. Dr. Johnson turned to look at him.

"It's possible that she could be partially paralyzed." There was a moment of silence as everyone took this in, before the doctor hurried to add, "Now, that's the worst case scenario, there. Like I said, it could be nothing. We won't know until we can do a more thorough exam, and she's just not fit for that now."

Gibbs was, as usual, the first to recover his voice. "Can she have visitors?"

Dr. Johnson looked a bit surprised by this question, but nodded. "I suppose that would be alright. She's not awake yet, though; it will probably be a while before she wakes up." He didn't add the _if she wakes up_ verbally, but it was present in his expression for a moment. "But, I'll have to enforce that there can only be one at a time."

Gibbs nodded, then, to Tony's surprise, sat down. There was a long pause before he shot a glare at Tony. "What are you waiting for, DiNozzo?"

Tony stared at him for a second before nodding slightly and jumping to his feet. "Right, Boss," he said, moving to follow the doctor back through the door. He shot Gibbs a thankful look over his shoulder as he walked through the door, which was met by a simple nod before the door swung shut.


	10. Chapter 9

-1Okay, got this one out faster than I expected, but I haven't had any major homework the past two days, so I had a bit more time to write. But this one was actually not wonderfully easy - it's hard to write Jeanne, 'cause I hardly know anything about her! So, I can't really tell if I'm keeping her in character, so if I'm not, I do apologize. Oh, and for the record, I'm open for ideas… what do people want to see? I've left a couple options open for what can happen with Ziva, and as I've added Jeanne in now, there are multiple things I could do with this. Oh, I love the possibilities! Now just give me opinions. Help me decide which way to go with it. In other words, review! Or else I'll just have to go with whatever I feel like, and that could be dangerous, lol. Anyways, I'll stop babbling now; enjoy the chapter. Thanks!!

**Chapter Nine**

"Why are all the chairs in hospitals these uncomfortable plastic ones?" Tony shifted awkwardly in said chair. "I mean, hospitals are uncomfortable enough. They could at least get nice chairs. You're lucky you get the bed." He paused a moment thoughtfully. "Though, if memory serves, they aren't the most comfortable beds in the world, either." If Ziva were awake, she might have been annoyed by his constant rambling. But she wasn't awake, and Tony couldn't stand sitting silent, with the beeping of the EKG the only sound to be heard. "But, still better than the chairs, you know."

It still wasn't easy for him to actually look at her, even after sitting there for five minutes, so he found himself examining all the medical equipment in the room - all except that ominous-looking red cart against the wall in the corner. He knew they kept a crash cart in every ICU room, but he still didn't like to consider what its presence suggested.

About every thirty seconds or so, though, his eyes would betray him by straying back to the bed. His short glances were enough for him to easily recite everything that was just so wrong about this picture. Ziva wasn't that pale - not by a long shot. And she was _never_ that still. Wires connected her to various machines, like she was some sort of robot. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose; he was sure she would find that bothersome. The IV drips into her arm, too… there was something just not right about sticking needles in people with intent to leave them there. They were probably saving her life, though, considering one of them was a blood transfusion - but he didn't want to think about how her life was in danger. So on the base levels, the needles could be added to his 'wrong' list.

The bed was a bit different than hospital beds he was used to seeing. He guessed it probably had something to do with the whole 'risk of spinal damage' thing. It didn't look like it was moveable, like most were; rather, it was fixed in a sort of 'propped up while still laying down' position, with the lower half flat and the upper half at an angle. Tony wondered if Ziva would find that comfortable, or if she preferred to lay flat - hopefully she wouldn't mind it the way it was, since it didn't appear she'd be able to change it. He wondered, too, if they had her in any type of back brace beneath the covers. He almost hoped not, as that was sure to be uncomfortable - anyways, it didn't look like she'd be moving much any time soon.

"Hey, but think of it this way. Paid time off. 'Cause, you know, they pay you for recovery time if you get hurt at work." They'd paid him for his time off recovering from the Y pestis thing, so he was sure they'd do the same for her. But Ziva wouldn't want the time off. She'd be complaining, if she were awake, the second she was told how long she'd have to be off to recover. "You could use the break, though! So, you aren't allowed to complain, 'cause I won't sit around and listen to it." He shook his head. "Nope, second you start complaining, I'm out of here."

But it wasn't the same, picking on her when she couldn't answer back. It wasn't right, a one-sided banter. So he trailed off, sighed, then reached out and carefully took hold of her hand. As usual, he couldn't keep his mouth shut - the silence was just too…silent. "You'd slap me if you were awake, wouldn't you? I never pegged you one for holding hands. But, you can't do anything about it, so I'm gonna hold your hand. Okay?" He paused for a second, then nodded. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Talking to yourself?" The voice made him jump, and he turned to find Jeanne leaning lightly against the doorframe. He shrugged.

"Talking to Ziva."

Jeanne smiled. "You know, that's one of the best things you can do." She came up behind him and laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. "She can probably hear you. I'm sure it'll make her feel better, to know you're here."

Tony chuckled. "If she can hear me, I'm gonna be in trouble when she wakes up. After she gets beyond the fact that the best thing I could come up with to talk about were the chairs, she'll spend hours reminding me of all the time _I_ complained about something. 'And _you're_ telling me you don't want _me _to complain?'" He grinned slightly.

Jeanne laughed slightly. "You guys are pretty good friends, it sounds like."

He shrugged again. "We're partners. We spend a lot of time together, just because of that. Get to know each other pretty well." He nodded. "So, yeah, I guess we are. Good friends."

"She's doing well, Tony." She sat down lightly on the chair's armrest. "She'll be okay."

"She'd better be, or I might have to glare at her," he said, striving for lightness, but his tone gave him away. Jeanne draped an arm around his shoulders.

"She will be." There was a momentary pause. "So, um… that girl you were talking with in the waiting room. Is she an agent, too?"

"Huh?" Tony glanced sideways at her. "Oh, Abby?" He laughed. "No! No, Abby's not an agent. Heh, she's our forensic scientist."

That seemed to surprise Jeanne more than the idea of her being an agent. "_She's_ a scientist?"

He nodded. "I know she doesn't much look it, but she is. Abby's a genius. …A mad genius, but a genius just the same."

"Hm. I never would have guessed she was a scientist."

"Yep. If you'd have been around a bit longer you'd probably have met my boss… or, rather, been yelled at by my boss." Tony paused thoughtfully for a second before adding, "Come to think of it, it's probably better that you left. Apparently he was telling off every doctor he ran into."

Jeanne laughed along with him. "Well, I hope he didn't yell at you too much."

"Nah, he was all quiet. But he's scarier that way, honestly."

They sat in silence for another minute or two before Jeanne slid off the armrest and stood. "I've got to go take care of some things, but I'll be in to check on her later. If I don't see you before you leave, I'll call you tonight?"

He nodded. "Okay." He knew, though, that he'd probably see her when she came to check on Ziva again. He didn't think he'd be going anywhere anytime soon, as long as he was allowed to stay.

Jeanne paused at the door and looked back at him. "She'll be alright, Tony." He met her gaze and smiled, then waved at her as she left.

_Of all the doctors to be on Ziva's case, it had to be the most awkward situation possible._ He sighed. At least Jeanne hadn't brought up Abby's apparent confusion at seeing her; he didn't know if he could deal with having to explain that right now. To Jeanne, or to his coworkers. He glanced back at Ziva. "This started out as such a normal day. And now, look where we've gotten it." He paused for a second, then corrected, "I've gotten it."

If she could, she'd probably lecture him for this guilt trip he had himself on. But she couldn't, and he knew it was his fault she couldn't, so that didn't help at all. He sighed and lightly squeezed Ziva's hand. "Come on, Ziva, you've got to pull through." He'd lost one partner already… one 'good friend', one person he'd really cared about. "I can't lose you, too."


End file.
